2005-03-13 -- 10:46 a.m. My words come out like vomit, stringy with your hair. My eye’s melt away with the stinging pain of thoughts and memories. I think of the time just happened, the very nearest paste, ten minutes ago. I remember your voice, your tears coming into the receiver and through half the country onto my cheek and draining into my mouth. Your tears even though so long the time to travel through the phone line are warm and sweet. Hinting only with sour. They ring with love, love I hope you have for me, love I hope I have for you. Even this I cannot be sure of anymore. I don’t want this to end us, I don’t want this to end at all. But what have I left to do? What choice do I have left to face, what obstacle before I have you, what mountain left to climb, what Hitler to kill and race to enslave, what’s left between you and me? O, besides half the country. Is there a reason for all this, maybe we’re not meant to be… me and you, what are we? Simple phantasms left in the paradox of time, hope that this isn’t purgatory? Yes, indeed, there is a reason for all of this, a test, a test within time. Something only written down and portrayed in circular articles worn around the wrist. What is this time we have to face, what is this fucking two years we have to live. If anything else went from with me, if anything at all it would be death. I hear the tree, I’ve squared it, I’ve also seen the piece’s fit. The only difference being I never saw them fall away, there was really only one brick. It was you and you left me. Then again, I left you as well. For a time, when I’m with you perhaps the tree will only ring truly of one geometric shape(circle), perhaps our parabola will become one straight line, maybe even maybe… we’ll reach, just for a minute what Maynard call’s 40 six and 2. But until that time, forever more, until the end, and even further I’ll love you, and not for your physical self but for who you are, for that beautiful person inside you that I fell in love with in the first place, even though I knew you were lying to me. But you knew, and told you that you knew. The truth still stands, and no matter what you think my truth is, I love. Anton